MRS. CULVER (_very endearingly, putting her hand on his mouth_).
Dearest, you needn't continue. I know you're wiser and stronger than me
in every way. But I love that. Most women wouldn't; but I do. (_Kisses
him_.) Oh! I'm so glad you've at last seen the force of my arguments
about the title.

CULVER (_gently warning_). Now, now! You're behaving like a journalist.

MRS. CULVER. Like a journalist?

CULVER. Journalists say a thing that they know isn't true, in the hope
that if they keep on saying it long enough it _will_ be true.

MRS. CULVER. But you do see the force of my arguments!

CULVER. Quite. But I also see the force of mine, and, as an impartial
judge, I'm bound to say that yours aren't in it with mine.

MRS. CULVER. Then you've refused the title after all?

CULVER (_ingratiatingly_). No. I told you I hadn't. But I'm going to. I
was just thinking over the terms of the fatal letter to Lord Woking when
you came in. Starkey is now waiting for me to dictate it. You see it
positively must be posted to-night.

MRS. CULVER (_springing from his knee_). Arthur, you're playing with me!

CULVER. No doubt. Like a mouse plays with a cat.